Midnight Confessions
by thatmasquedgirl
Summary: AU: The Drug in Me is You, #6. *Oliver and Felicity finally talk. It doesn't end the way Oliver expects.* More vampire!Oliver, now with motorbikes, tablets, and a few metaphorical rain clouds. Written for TheBookJumper's Olicity Hiatus Fic-A-Thon. Prompt: silver lining. Complete.


**Title: Midnight Confessions  
Word Count: 2994**

 **Notes:** I'm sure y'all have been waiting for this since I posted Sleepless Nights, but finally, the conclusion of this arc that completely destroyed my life. :P To be honest, this is the fastest turnaround time I think I've ever had on an OHFAT prompt, but the moment I saw it, I knew this would be perfect for what I wanted to do.

Thank you very much for reading, my dears! I hope you enjoy it, and I'm already looking forward to reading your reactions! :)

* * *

For the last two miles to Felicity's apartment, Oliver slows the bike to a crawl as he tries to gather his thoughts. A sense of dread claws at his stomach; he's known for the last twenty-four hours that this conversation with Felicity isn't going to end well. Even though he knows she deserves to question him about the kiss, part of him wants to hold onto the illusion just a little longer.

Even know the memory turns his mouth up at the corners. For the last year, he's been fighting his attraction to her. Felicity Smoak is a beautiful woman, and that never escaped his notice. But in the last three months—maybe longer than that, if he's being honest with himself—things have changed for him.

At first it was her blood he wanted. There was something that awakened the moment her blood touched his lips the first time, something that came, wild and clawing, to the surface. Then he traded one form of lust for another as she evoked more human instincts within him. And finally— _finally_ —he was able to admit that those desires just overlapped another for him.

When he kissed her last night, it had nothing to do with her blood. What's more, he never meant for it to progress any further than a kiss, either. It wasn't about sex; it was because he couldn't stand in the same room with her another moment without kissing her. He simply kissed her because he wanted to feel her lips against his.

That's never happened to him before.

The moment he realized that, he ran.

Felicity has power over him. That's never happened to him before. Sometimes the thought of it is enough to make him want to run away and never look back. Five years away taught him that relinquishing control was dangerous. But sometimes, when he pushes those fears and experiences away, it's not so scary. It's even nice.

And in five minutes, he's going to lose that.

The fact of it is that he doesn't deserve Felicity Smoak—will _never_ deserve her. That's why he _swore_ to himself when their lives became entangled that he would let her have a normal life, one that didn't revolve around creatures like him. One that didn't involve vigilantes or unrealistic goals or idealist philosophy. Oliver knew that promise meant he'd have to bite the inside of his cheek as she dated someone. He'd have to swallow hard as he watched her marry a man who deserved her love and trust. He knew that someday, eventually, she would have to leave his crusade—or that maybe he would have to leave her before all those things tore him apart.

Now he's not sure he can.

He runs a hand over his face as he slows. Thea would tell him to stop being gloomy and look for the silver lining, but it's been his experience that clouds are just clouds and usually they carry rain. It's the biggest lie he's ever been told: _every cloud has a silver lining_. There are no silver linings. Not for Oliver.

Guys like him don't get the girl. Guys like him die on the streets, cold and alone, fighting a war that was never theirs to begin with.

Sighing, he maneuvers the bike behind her apartment building. Fortunately, she's settled in a building on the fringes of the complex, a place where strange motorbikes in the middle of the night or vigilantes in green leather will be noticed. After taking a deep breath, he knocks twice on the back door.

It's barely a second later when he hears the locks rattle, and he realizes she was waiting on him. Felicity opens the door wide with an unreadable expression, wrapping a cardigan tighter around herself as she walks on ahead. Oliver locks up before following her into the kitchen, pulling down his hood and mask as he slides onto one of her stools at the bar.

Felicity opens her mouth to speak, but Oliver stops her, placing the tablet on the table between them. "It might be a little worse for the wear, but I thought you could make sure all your files were still there," he says to fill the silence. Neither one of them gives a damn about the tablet at this point.

She slides the tablet away before placing her hands on the bar from the other side of it. There's a new tension in her shoulders, and, now that she's removed her makeup, he can see shadows under her eyes that weren't there last night. She didn't sleep after he left; that much is certain. It makes his stomach churn again because neither of them are going to sleep after he leaves, either.

For too long, she's uncharacteristically quiet, and the silence fills with all the things they need to say to one another. If the situation were different, he would probably reach out and place his hand over hers, but right now there's no comfort for either of them. "You kissed me," she blurts, making them both jump.

It startles him so much that he says the first thought that crosses his mind: "You kissed me back."

Felicity's mouth falls open in a way that would probably make him laugh any other time. Red stains her cheeks, and the sudden rush of blood to the surface makes her smell all the sweeter. She stands a little straighter before continuing as though he didn't speak, "Then you left." It comes out as an accusation, and Oliver has to look away. "Did you regret it?"

"No," he replies without hesitation. He's made a lot of poor choices in his past and there are things that will always haunt him at night, but that isn't one of them. Or maybe it _will_ come to haunt him at night, but for entirely different reasons.

Her voice is gentle as she coaxes, "I think I deserve to know why."

Oliver doesn't make a habit of lying to Felicity, and he isn't going to start now. Either way, certain things are better left unsaid. "I kissed you because I wanted to," he replies in a hushed confession, staring at the counter. After a deep breath, he meets her eyes again. "I meant what I said tonight, Felicity." Even now, when he needs them, the words won't come out. "I care about you."

She rolls her eyes. "I don't know why you feel the need to protect me from petty thieves," she remarks, her voice high and light for the first time tonight. This is familiar, even if she doesn't fully understand. Oliver tries to correct her, but she holds up a hand to stop him. It brings a smile to his lips. "I mean, it's nice of you to get my tablet back—thank you, by the way—but I am _not_ a damsel in distress." She waves a hand. "Not that I'm saying you're a knight in shining armor, out to win fair maiden's heart." The smile slips off his face because maybe he is. Except he isn't noble enough to be a knight.

Oblivious to his musings, she continues with a breathy laugh, "It's not as if you lo—" At his look, the words die on her tongue. For a moment, all she can do is blink at him. Her mouth falls open, even though she shakes her head in protest. " _Oh_ ," is the response that leaves her mouth. The silence stretches on, choking the air out of the room. "You…" He imagines she'd look like this if he told her two and two equaled six and she's been wrong all her life. "Oh."

Her palms fall flat on the counter, as if to brace herself. "I, uh…" She swallows before the words burst out of her: "Look, it's been a confusing day for me, Oliver. First you show up at my house in the middle of the night. That was kind of unusual, but it was _us_. It made sense." Felicity waves her hands in the air. "Then you kissed me, and in _no conceivable way_ did _that_ make sense. You don't…" She falters, but only briefly. "People like _you_ "—she gestures toward him like she's presenting a lost Monet painting—"don't kiss people like me." The motion she makes to herself is a dismissal.

When Oliver starts to protest, she holds up a hand. "Not done yet," she insists. "That doesn't matter because you _did_." The faintest hint of a smile graces her features. "And I kissed you back. I _liked_ kissing you." She shakes her head. "And it's confusing because all this time, you've been my friend. One of my _best_ friends." It's her turn to study the counter. "Now I'm realizing that I might care about you, too."

He has no words. Oliver has never been good with words—not the ones that matter. Lies flow easily, small talk flows easily, but all the important things stay bottled up inside, even when he _wants_ them to come out. They tangle up in knots and never come out the way he means them to. Actions have always been where he succeeds.

Slowly, he rises from the barstool and rounds the counter. Felicity turns toward him with wide eyes, and the heavy tang of her adrenaline fills the air. It carries undertones of something soft and sweet, something he's only smelled in the air when she had his mix of chemicals flowing through her veins. He can safely say her desire is _much_ more interesting now.

It's all the encouragement he needs to lean down so that his mouth is just inches away from hers. The last time, he didn't give her a choice, but now this needs to be hers. So he waits. What must be only seconds feel like minutes. Finally, Felicity leans up on her toes and closes the last of the distance between them.

The last time Oliver kissed her, it was wild and needy. He kissed her like it was the last thing he'd ever do, trying to experience all the need from the last few months at once. This time, however, he kisses her the way she _deserves_ to be kissed, slow and careful. Felicity's hands grip his jacket as his cradle her head, and out of instinct, he sinks his fangs playfully into her bottom lip, and a small cry leaves her throat.

It instantly becomes his favorite sound.

They stay entwined for what will never be long enough, but eventually she breaks away to catch her breath. Oliver might be panting, too, but he takes the moment to do one last thing. Brushing the hair away from her shoulder, he kisses the two mottled, circular scars on the side of her neck. He's done it so many times before, but this time, he doesn't have to hide it.

"I don't know how to do this, if this is what you want," Oliver confesses to her, his voice quiet in the still of the night. "I know what it means to be a good boyfriend. I know how to be a good lover." He sighs against her shoulder before pulling away to meet her eyes. "But you deserve a _partner_ , Felicity. I've never tried to be that for anyone before."

She smiles, placing a hand to his face. It feels like coming home. "I think that definition depends on your partner," Felicity replies after some deliberation. "We might have to figure that out together." The fingers on her free hand weave through his. "Mostly it's about trust, Oliver, so I think we're off to a good start already. I don't expect you to give up all your secrets, but I _do_ expect you to tell me the important things—things that trouble you. If we do this, we make our decisions as a team. Together." Oliver has to admit, he likes the sound of that word. "Everything else… well, we'll just have to figure it out along the way."

A darker thought interrupts the moment. "I'm not entirely human, Felicity," he reminds her. Felicity's expression never wavers. "I don't know where my limits are." Her eyebrows knit together, so he clarifies, "Physically, I mean. I'm not sure if I—" He blows out a breath. Of all the things he expected to talk about tonight, Oliver didn't think about _this_ , but it doesn't matter. He still isn't sure he can have sex with her, not without the monster begging for her blood in its arousal. And if his guard slips for even a second… well, what the monster wants, it takes.

But there are some things Oliver won't let it have.

Felicity pats his chest. "So we'll take it slow," she replies easily. With a playful smile and a wink, she adds, "Maybe I'll eat some garlic so I smell gross."

Oliver tenses. While he knows it's a joke, for the sake of his sanity, he can't let her do that. It wouldn't just mask her scent: it would mask _his_. The pheromones he injected into her bloodstream mark her as his donor. For the sake of his sanity, it has to say that way. He has no idea how many more creatures like him Ivo created—or if they would find their way to Starling City.

And if they _do_ , they need to know that anyone who touches Felicity Smoak will be ripped to shreds.

"Promise me you won't do that," Oliver asks of her. He tries to keep his voice gentle, but there's a hysterical edge to it he can't keep out. Felicity's eyes widen. "My pheromones are in your bloodstream now. That's your protection from any other creatures like me. It tells them you're mine. If you mask your scent with garlic, you lose that." She doesn't say anything. "Please, Felicity." He might be begging, but he doesn't care. "Promise me."

"I promise," she assures him, with all the sincerity in the world. Slowly, her head tilts to the side. "So I _belong_ to you?" Felicity asks in a casual tone, and everything in Oliver tenses to run. That isn't a good tone. That's the one that comes before yelling. "I'm _property?_ "

He winces. "My instincts don't make that kind of distinction," he answers slowly, "but I try to be better than that." His voice turns dark. "If I followed them, I would have killed that petty thief that hurt you." He tentatively touches the bruise on her cheek, and she doesn't flinch away from the touch. "I would have drained him dry and left him as a warning." Oliver shakes his head. "But that isn't the kind of person I want to be. I don't kill people for hurting you, and I don't think of you like property."

She kisses him, just a peck on the cheek that ends before he really has the chance to appreciate it. That doesn't stop his fingers from touching the spot she set ablaze with her lips. "Good answer," Felicity remarks. "If you ever start listening to your caveman instincts, it will _not_ be pleasant between us."

While she might be small and nonthreatening, something about her tone sends a shiver down Oliver's spine. When she's angry, she's merciless—capable of delivering a tongue-lashing more brutal than any beating he's ever received. "Noted," he replies, serious.

Suddenly she yawns, and Oliver remembers all over again that she barely slept last night. "I'll let you get some rest," he says to her. If his reluctance leaks into his tone, he can't help it. By the morning, she could come to her senses. He presses a kiss to the top of her head before turning.

There's a tug on his arm, light but just strong enough to get his attention. He glances back at Felicity, a question on his face. "You could join me if you wanted," she suggests quietly. Oliver twists to face her fully at the suggestion. Suddenly her eyes go wide, face flushing pink as she waves her hands. "To sleep!" she blurts, a little too loud. "I meant you could join me upstairs and we could both sleep. Together." She winces. "I mean, in the same bed. Not _sleep together_ sleep together. I wouldn't say that after we just discussed taking it slow." She motions in the direction of her bedroom. "I still have that pair of sweatpants and t-shirt I stole after the thing with the Dodger. Provided you would want to stay, of course."

Breathing a soft laugh, Oliver smiles before taking her hand. "I'd like that," he replies.

Ten minutes later, he's wearing the clothes she took from him, only they smell like her now. She lets him place his things in a chair by her dresser. When he turns, she's already in her bed, but pats the space beside her. Oliver's feet take him there, unable to refuse an offer so good.

She slides under the blankets a fraction after he does, curling against his chest. His arms wind around her, pulling her closer until he can feel her hot breath against chest. Everything smells like her, and something about being enveloped in her scent makes the tension leave him in a rush.

His eyes are drifting closed when the dark splotch on Felicity's cheek catches his attention, and he grazes it with his fingers. It might be a minor injury, but that doesn't matter. Not to him. "I'm sorry he hit you," Oliver says quietly to Felicity in the darkness. "I'm sorry I wasn't there to prevent you from being hurt."

"I'm not," she replies, the first traces of sleep starting to coat her voice. "If it hadn't happened, you would still be avoiding me and you wouldn't be here." Her hand curls behind his shoulder, nestling further into him. A quiet laugh leaves her. "Every cloud has a silver lining, right?"

In a whisper, Oliver replies, "Maybe it does."


End file.
